


The Inevitable

by KiwiBerry



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, jack o lantern origin, phillipa and james being adorbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Ariadne decides to teach the kids how to carve pumpkins and Arthur is not impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inevitable

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I promised the children I’d teach them how to carve pumpkins,” Ariadne answered simply, slicing the top of her pumpkin clean off before rolling up her sleeves and using the large plastic scoop beside her to hollow it out. 

Arthur frowned in reply, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Lighten’ up, love, and pick a pumpkin.”

Arthur opened his eyes and turned around in his seat on the porch railing to see Eames arrive carrying two large pumpkins in his arms, pausing a moment to kick the screen door shut behind him. 

“I wan’ dat one!” James demanded excitedly, cutting off any further remarks by Arthur, his little legs rushing over to Eames, where he stumbled slightly before staring upward, arms stretched high above his head, “Dat one!”

“Alright, alright,” Eames replied, leaning down to hand the smaller pumpkin off to the boys chubby arms. James swayed dangerously under it’s weight before looking at his father in a silent plea for help.

Dom laughed before walking over and taking the pumpkin, tucking it under his left arm before lifting his son up with the other. James laughed in delight.

“Stop being childish, James,” Phillipa began as she motioned for Eames to hand her the other pumpkin, taking it full stride and depositing it next to her seat on the porch step, “and the word ‘that’ begins with the letter T not D.”

James stuck his tongue out in reply as he was sat down beside her along with his own pumpkin, both of which Dom deposited carefully. 

“Phillipa, be nice to your brother,” he reprimanded, to which Phillipa let out a small huff of annoyance before asking Ariadne to cut the top of her pumpkin off.

“Yeah, sure,” Ariadne replied before lopping the stem off with her knife, fingers familiar against the hilt of the blade, “now go inside and see if you can find some markers to draw the faces on.”

Phillipa nodded eagerly before dashing into the house, disappearing with the creak of the screen door slamming close. Ariadne smiled, letting her eyes flicker to Arthur then, who sat on the porch rail and stared out into the street, watching some neighbor kids race each other down the road as the sun set and the sky grew dark, the bright colors of the trees blending into familiar shades of dark blues and blacks. She pulled at the hem of her sweater thoughtfully before standing up and walking over to Arthur, already emptied pumpkin in tow.

“You can have this one,” she offered, meeting Arthur’s gaze as he shifted his focus to her, an eyebrow raised in question, “I didn’t think you’d want to do the hard part, since I know how lazy you are,” at this Arthur rolled his eyes but his lips turned up in a small, familiar smile, “and I thought you could ask Eames to cut the face out for you if you didn’t want to do that part either.”

At the mention of Eames, Arthur’s smile fell and he peered over Ariadne’s shoulder to find said man sitting crossed legged with James on the porch floor, hideous wool sweater draped across his chest to keep out the chilly air, at which Arthur rolled his eyes once again. He looked at Ariadne seriously.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Ariadne defended, giving Arthur a small wink and a light punch to the shoulder as she dropped the pumpkin in his lap, “but in all seriousness, he does carve the best faces.”

Arthur fought the urge to laugh rather sarcastically and instead focused his attention on Eames, who was now being fought over by James and Phillipa, the latter now having a fistful of black markers that she was waving around quite violently.

“But you promised me you’d make vampire face’s for my pumpkin, and you can’t do that if you're helping James make his stupid pumpkin face,” Phillipa whined, almost smacking Eames in the face as she extended her arms dramatically.

“Calm down, pet,” Eames soothed, taking Phillipa’s hand in his and snatching away the markers before placing them next to him on the floor, “how about this: James, I’ll give you this marker and you can go with your father and draw the best pirate pumpkin face we’ve ever seen and then you can bring it back to me to cut out, yeah? And Phillipa, you can stay here with me and I can carve your pumpkin’s face right now, if you don’t mind me taking a little creative license of course.”

Phillipa pondered for a moment, rubbing her chin like she’d seen her father do countless times, and James mimicked, the two lost in fake thought.

“I guess,” Phillipa finally accepted, dropping down to the floor and watching as James ran over to Dom, who stopped the pumpkin that Eames slid toward him with ease. 

Eames flashed Phillipa an easy smile, hefting her pumpkin into his lap.

“Now I know you want, what was it, a-”

“Vampire,” Phillipa interrupted, placing her two index fingers in front of her mouth to resemble fangs, “with really large, pointy teeth that can tear into human flesh.”

Eames laughed, amused, yet slightly concerned, “Whatever you say, pet. I can see your fathers been letting you watch TV past your bedtime again.”

Dom looked up from the pumpkin he was drawing on with a stern look, to which Eames smiled cheekily before returning his attention to Phillipa’s pumpkin. He picked up the knife by his thigh and began cutting out the first eye, taking long, full cuts before popping the now triangular shaped socket into the hollowed middle.

“Cool,” Phillipa commented, knees bumping Eames’ as she scooted closer, watching his hand move deftly across the surface of the pumpkin.

“I have to ask though, why vampires?” Eames mused, glancing at Phillipa who only shrugged her tiny shoulders “Me, I always preferred Frankenstein as a child. Big, green, bloke, terrifying to others, yet empathetic and misunderstood by all.”

“Sounds like your taste,” Arthur commented without meaning to, catching Eames’ gaze in the process. 

Eames sat silently for a minute, poking out the second eye of Phillipa’s pumpkin, before asking aloud, “Did anyone ever tell you the story of Jack o’ Lanterns?”

Phillipa shook her head, eyes wide, while James looked up from his drawing, marker poised in his hand and Dom watching proudly. Ariadne lowered her head as she poked out a piece of her pumpkin, glancing up with her eyes to tell Eames to continue. Before he did, he caught a glimpse of Arthur, who feigned boredom but sat upright and attentive, empty pumpkin poised in his lap.

“Well you see, where I grew up, we didn’t call them Jack o’ Lanterns,” Eames began, smiling at Phillipa as he started cutting the mouth of her pumpkin, with fangs of course, “You see when I was growing up, my mum used to tell me stories about Will-o-the-wisps, nasty little buggers who lead unsuspecting folks off the road, getting them into all sorts of trouble. Now the story depends on who you ask, but mainly they tell of one nasty old bloke who was as bad as they get, and isn’t allowed up above or below, doomed to walk the Earth for eternity with only a small ember from the fires deep within in the ground to light his way, housed within a small turnip or beet. This man, let’s call him Will, then leads unsuspecting travelers to their doom, angry at being trapped in limbo forever. Hence Will-o-the-wisps, or Will-of-the-torch, which then somehow correlates to your Americanized Jack o’Lantern’s, I suppose.”

Eames smiled as he spun Phillipa’s completed pumpkin around, a wide, fanged grin peering out, and Phillipa jumped up, hugging Eames tight.

“I love it, it’s perfect!”

Eames laughed as he set the pumpkin down, steadying himself as Phillipa continued to hold on to him, jumping up and down from excitement, before moving back to inspect Eames’ newest creation. 

Ariadne smiled, turning her own pumpkin around to showcase it’s crazy eyes and lopsided mouth, “Mine isn’t nearly as cool as Phillipa’s but I tried,” she paused then, taking in her pumpkin, “Hey Eames, is that really true? All that stuff about the Willow things?”

“Will-o-the-wisps,” Eames corrected, wiping shreds of pumpkin skin off his lap before standing up, “And as far as I know. I can only relay what my mum and grandmum told me, but I assume they told me the truth. Wouldn’t want to raise a son to be a liar, now would we?”

“Didn’t stop you,” Arthur snorted, voice low and hushed.

Eames and Ariadne looked at Arthur in surprise, who looked away when he realized his mistake, averting his gaze to the lamp across the street. Ariadne moved to get up, most likely to chastise Arthur for his bad behavior, but Eames beat her to it, taking long, easy strides across the porch and stealing Arthur’s pumpkin from his lap.

“You’re right, it didn’t,” Eames confessed, eyeing the pumpkins sides before grabbing the knife he’d been using off the porch floor and placing small, intricate, cuts into the pumpkins skin,”But let’s not tell the missus, yeah?”

Arthur scoffed at Eames attempt to make light of the conversation, but watched with interest as he continued to carve into the shell of the pumpkin, making cuts just deep enough to leave an indent yet shallow enough to leave the entirety of the pumpkin intact. After a few minutes of silence and Eames’ complete concentration, he returned the pumpkin with a smile, depositing it back in Arthur’s lap. 

“I hope you won’t be mad but I took some, um, creative license with your pumpkin as well, love,” Eames smiled before leaning next to Arthur on the porch rail, watching him take in the pumpkin. 

On the shell of the pumpkin was what looked like an intricately carved billow of smoke, soft curves wafting towards the open top, spreading like wildfire across the wide belly of it’s width. But when he looked closer, he could see the slightest indication of two hollowed, innocent eyes, the barest of light shining through them as the knife had scraped right along the soft expanse of the pumpkins inside layer. Arthur was in awe.

“Eames,” he began, once he’d found his voice, falling into his natural habit of faking indifference, “I am impressed.”

Eames’ face fell slightly at the comment, before sliding into a smile, “You’re condescension, as always, is much appreciated Arthur, thank you.”

Eames then pushed himself away from the railing, and into the house, screen door screeching shut behind him. Ariadne scowled at Arthur from across the porch. Dom looked up from James’ drawing in concern. 

“What?” Arthur defended, not quite sure what he’d done wrong. Ariadne rolled her eyes before standing up and following Eames, door slamming shut behind her. Arthur turned to Dom who looked upon him with disapproval.

_“What?”_

Dom only shook his head before continuing to help James draw a somewhat even smile across his pumpkin, something that was proving quite difficult. Arthur sighed before placing his intricately carved pumpkin onto the porch floor and making his way inside the house as well, making sure the door closed as quietly as possible behind him.

\--------------------------------

Inside, Eames was sitting in Dom’s kitchen with Ariadne, who had her head on his shoulder, talking quietly. Arthur could smell the smoke before he even saw the cigarette, light trails of it billowing up towards the ceiling. Arthur sighed in disapproval. Eames only smoked when he was upset. 

“Don’t worry about it, Eames, Arthur’s a pain most of the time anyway.”

Arthur cleared his throat then, hoping to catch their attention, and Ariadne turned around, Eames still facing the other way. 

“Oh,” was Ariadne’s reply as she swiveled around in her stool, voice light but eyes nervous, “Arthur,hey, we were just talking about-”

“Me?” Arthur supplied with very little enthusiasm, stepping his way carefully over to the island, making sure to come up on Ariadne’s side rather than Eames. Eames caught his gaze as he did so and his eyes shifted away instinctively, as if in disregard.

“You shouldn’t be smoking in Dom’s house,” Arthur chastised out of habit.

Eames scoffed, “That so?” before taking a long drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke pour from his mouth. Arthur watched as it hung in the air and an overpowering silence echoed in the room. Ariadne was the first to break it.

“Well this has been fun,” she began, pushing herself off the stool and giving Eames one final pat on the back, “but I promised Phillipa I’d help her put the candle in her pumpkin, so if you’ll excuse me.”

As she left, she threw Arthur a glance he couldn’t quite figure out, unsure as to what she was trying to say. When she was gone, Arthur and Eames stood and sat in silence, only the sound of their own breathing wafting in the air. Eames looked at Arthur expectantly, who in turn crossed his arms defensively.

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but honestly it was just a pumpkin for fuck’s sake, so don’t-” Arthur began, annoyance laced in his voice, but was cut off by a click of the tongue from Eames.

“The pumpkin?” Eames inquired, slightly amused, “You honestly think I’m upset because you poked fun at my pumpkin?”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed and he watched Eames seriously, “Then what? What did I do?”

Eames stared at Arthur for a moment, letting a single breath of silence linger between them before taking another drag and blowing the smoke upward, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Arthur watched the spectacle, taking in the curve of Eames lips and shape of the smoke in the air, and frowned, “Nothing? You’re mad at me because I did nothing?”

“Precisely,” Eames confirmed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur felt the urge to chuck a nearby plate at the man’s head.

“Nothing?,” Arthur began again, saying the word with such surprise, that Eames looked up from his cigarette, “Nothing. You’re angry with me for doing nothing? What the fuck Eames. Seriously, _what. the. fuck_?”

Eames watched with a sad smile and shrugged, which caused Arthur to walk around the island and steal the cigarette from his hands before throwing it on the linoleum floor and stomping it out with his foot. Eames watched, hand still poised near his mouth to take another drag, and Arthur stared back defiantly. 

Eames pushed himself away from the counter then, and stood up, towering over Arthur just enough that he regretted making Eames stand up at all. 

“Who said you could be taller than me?” Arthur blurted out in utter contempt, surprising himself with the sheer immaturity of his own words. Eames only stared, face completely neutral before breaking into one of his teasing smiles, and Arthur hated it. He blames it for what he did next. 

Before Arthur knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed a fistful of Eames’ ugly sweater and pulled him close enough for him to capture Eames’ lips into a kiss, something quick and angry and very forceful, before pulling back and realizing what he’d done. He looked up at Eames, face riddled with surprise, and blinked once, twice.

“I-”

But before he could voice anything more, Eames had pulled him into another kiss, this one longer and not as angry as the first and very enjoyable. Arthur savored the taste of smoke on his tongue, Eames’ flavor sinking in as Arthur pulled himself closer, hands curling into that stupid, ugly sweater that was definitely in the way. Eames smiled into Arthur’s mouth as he felt the other’s hand tug at the hem of his sweater angrily.

“Careful now,” Eames warned, laughing into Arthur’s mouth as he pulled away, “This was given to me by my Grandmum, wouldn’t want it getting ruined now, would we?”

Arthur frowned, hand leaving the sweater to hook into Eames belt loops defiantly, and muttered “Fucking ugly sweater.”

Eames laughed a hearty laugh before stealing a quick kiss and moving away, much to Arthur’s dismay. He picked up the stub of his cigarette from the ground and threw it in the trash before heading back toward the front door, pausing hesitantly in the doorway of the kitchen when Arthur didn’t follow. 

“You coming?” Eames asked, his voice completely innocent, as if he and Arthur hadn’t just made out in Dom’s kitchen, and Arthur felt the urge to throw the plate once again. 

“I fucking hate you,” Arthur wanted to say, but instead of coming out as menacingly as he’d hoped, it came out as more of an exasperation and Eames smiled.

“Yes, darling,” Eames replied, walking through the doorway and out of sight, “I love you too.”

Arthur wanted to frown, to roll his eyes and yell an insult, but all he could do was smile and dig his hands into his pockets affectionately before following Eames outside, catching Ariadne’s eye when he closed the door behind him, her eyes blooming with curiosity. Arthur only smiled, shaking his head lightly, before watching Eames help James set his now lit pumpkin next to Phillipa’s, laughing as she patted James on the back for a job well done. 

Even if the smile was a little off centered.

**Author's Note:**

> ahh! Sorry for it being so long, I hope you all enjoyed! This was a fall prompt from my friend Laura over on tumblr and I'd thought I'd share it with all of you :) 
> 
> Comments and criticism is always appreciated!


End file.
